The Wedding
by spilled-magic
Summary: It's Ginny's wedding day. A LONG wedding day. She didn't think she'd be getting married now, but she was and she couldn't be more excited. But then a shocking news comes in the morning, and suddenly she starts having doubts over her future with Harry. (P.S.: I am shitty at writing summaries.) (P.P.S.: This is my first fanfiction writing, so please feel free to criticize me.)
1. Chapter 1

The first thing that sprung into Ginny Weasley's mind when her eyes fluttered open and located the white ceiling overhead was, _No reporting today._ And then almost at the same second, _Because, I am going to get married today._

As she fondled the thought in her mind slowly, languidly, rolling over onto her side facing the window, a soft smile started to spread across her face and she waited for the panic to creep in.

Because that's what brides do on their wedding day, right? They panic and morph into a terrifying ball of burgeoning anxiety and start to have cold feet and maniacally fuss and fret over every single detail of the wedding arrangement in the contemplative premonition of _something_ going haywire at the last moment.

So she waited and waited as the dazzling beams of the morning sun swooped through the window into the room and swathed it in a golden brightness, and the warm, balmy wind swayed the white curtains into a billowy swing, only to be overwhelmed by the looming prospect of the inevitable.

Then she let the soft beam on her mouth curve into something bigger and wax into something broader and she felt so giddy with the wondrous joy and anticipation that tears started to prickle at her eyes, goose bumps popped into her pale and smooth arms and her heart almost ached with an inefficaciously repressed bliss, all along being not-quite-oblivious to its heavy hammering and obtrusively loud beating.

Eventually she plucked the white blanket off herself, scrambled to her feet, and flounced into the bathroom. There she pressed both of her palms on the counters of the basin, staring at the reflection on the mirror. Pale but florid cheeks; long, ginger, straight hair cascading down firm shoulders; the wide smile still planted tenaciously on the face.

Ginny didn't look down, or blush or feel embarrassed for the way that smile seemed to have no intention of shedding off.

Because…guess what?

She was going to get married – today – and if she was sure about anything at that time, it was that _nothing_ would go haywire at the last moment.

* * *

"Girls, do NOT run around here!" Mrs. Weasley's harrowed and ominously-toned voice rang out as Ginny descended the stairs into the living room, having been refreshed and dressed properly in a simple, yellow sundress.

And, oh, bloody Merlin.

Her freezing on the last step was quite imperative as she almost collided with two little girls squealing and scampering around. There were more people here than she knew, all chattering over the wooden table, clatter of dishes wafting in from the kitchen, the scurrying of gnomes clad in fluffy dresses.

And of course, there was Mrs. Weasley.

She was scuttling around, nodding to everyone, asking everyone about their needs, her face covered in a sheen of sweat on such an enchanting Spring morning. Perusing closely for about a minute, Ginny noticed dark circles around her eyes, and the perceptible crease lines in her forehead.

And she felt a rush of warmth and affections for her harassed mother puff up her inside, swelling her heart to a soared level. She traipsed towards her and impeded her path by grasping her mother's shoulders boldly.

Mrs. Weasley was startled to have almost rammed into her youngest child, though she recovered herself quickly.

"Oh, Ginny! You're awake! I was just going to wake you…well, never mind that. Sit down here," She ushered a chair beside her at a nearby small table by the flick of her wand, "I will get you some breakfast. You will need all the strength you want today…" She trailed off, her eyes scouting around the kitchen.

"Mum," Ginny said, with just a little intimation of firmness in her voice, "Calm down."

"What?" Mrs. Weasley said distractedly, still rummaging through the kitchen with her eyes, which popped slightly, and she turned to Ginny, "Oh, there it is." She indicated towards a bowl perched atop the kitchen counter. "Almonds. And there are some turkey sandwich I made." She tried to brandish her wand, but couldn't due to Ginny's steadfast grasp on the shoulders.

"Here, sit down…" Ginny kindly motioned her towards the chair.

"_You_ need to sit down, dear…" Mrs. Weasley looked at her daughter with a befuddled countenance. "Just sit and relax, and I will quickly…"

"Do _nothing_ but sit down here." Ginny sensed the occasion to thrust a little force on her, and so, almost pushed a haggard Mrs. Weasley into the chair, despite her many protestations.

"You need to take it easy." She reminded her mother.

"Well, I can't possibly just sit here now!" Her alarmed mother started belligerently. "There's so much to do here…outside…"

"Do I have to remind you that you're a _witch_, Mum?" Ginny asked her rather amusedly, which only earned her a glare from her mother.

"Don't get cheeky with me now, young lady…"

"I won't if you just take a moment and _relax_." Ginny kneeled down before her mother. "Everything is going to turn out just fine."

And her stomach flipped at that prospect. But the words were uttered with so much vigour and resolution that Mrs. Weasley stopped looking hassled for a moment and stared down at her daughter. She was…glowing, her mother realized with a twinge at her heart.

A good twinge, of course. So she told her so.

"I am not _glowing_, Mum." Ginny rolled her eyes, but her face crinkled into a smile nonetheless. "That's such a mythical cliché."

"What is?"

"That brides _glow_ on their wedding day or something." She shook her head.

"I know what I am seeing, you know." Mrs. Weasley tilted her head to one side and gave Ginny a blithe smile of her own. "You're looking lovely, darling."

"Well, now that we've established that," She said playfully and stood up. "you're going to sit here and relax and eat some food. Okay?" Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth feebly, but Ginny was better at stymying her mother. "Yeah, that's what I thought." She said as she walked into the kitchen.

A second later, she handed her mother the bowl that was supposedly for her nuptial care, along with a plate of bread and a sandwich.

"You know, you should go and sit over there with Aunt Mary and all of them. Come on, go on." And she sent her grudging mother toward the table where people were bantering and laughing and swallowing up food with great haste to deliver their opinion on something, lest the chance should be lost.

Ginny watched the scene unravelling before her for some time, feeling the happiness escalate inside her. She never admitted it to anyone except Harry, but she loved weddings too.

Not the fussing and rushing and having-panic-attacks bits, of course; but the rendezvous of people, having them for one day together under the same roof, rooting for the same couple…the crackle of laughter lingering in the air, the happily-ever-after feeling mingled in the atmosphere…even for one day, it seems they are all worth it.

Her reverie would have taken a very long time to crack a rupture into, had it not been for the sudden thud of something tumbling down. Only when she craned her neck to peer into the kitchen to see what that was, she realized nothing had tumbled down, but it was rather a parchment rolled up and tied, that an owl, which was now flying away, had dropped on the kitchen counter.

Intrigued, she strode across the kitchen and picked it up. It was addressed to her. But that was not the part that really piqued her interest. What really piqued her, or rather, nearly left her bummed and prickling with apprehension was the fact that it came from St. Mungo's Hospital.

* * *

Ginny didn't know how long she sat there, transfixed in the chair with eyes boring into the parchment, scrupulous about whether to open it or not. All the bustle and din of the house seemed to have petered out into a stifled fuzz and the people around her withered away into just a mass of opaque blur.

She didn't know what to expect, what she _should_ expect. Why did it have to arrive today, of all days? What was she now supposed to do with it?

She just stared at the letter without really seeing it. Before her vision, Harry's face swiftly floated up. Harry's beaming, gleaming face…that sparkle in his eyes when he'd told her a few months ago that he'd been made an Auror, finally…the glint of excitement and sheen of joy that he was exuding…Ginny herself hadn't been able to expunge the smile off her face for quite some time at hearing the news.

She exhaled a prolonged breath. Well, it might not be what she was thinking, right?

Yeah, it might not be.

Still she couldn't quite make herself get up. Her mind was still whirring with the excruciating maelstrom of agonizing, perturbed, nervous thoughts, with just a violent ringing in her ears, blocking out every other perceptible sound.

So she was quite startled on receiving a little nudge on her forearm. She looked up blankly to see the faces of Hermione and Ron hovering above her head.

"Ginny, are you all right?" Hermione's voice was smeared with a tinge of concern, and beside her, Ron's eyebrows were furrowed into a frown. Hermione was dressed in a pretty crimson floral dress, and Ron had donned a grey dress robe.

Ginny felt touched. She reminded herself to smile, even though it was weak, because she couldn't face telling anyone anything (which could be nothing, for all she knew.).

"Yeah…I am fine." She said with jovial dismissiveness. "Just wedding nerves, you know." She gulped and averted her eyes toward the letter in her palm, although not before noticing in her peripheral vision Ron and Hermione exchanging worried glances.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked again, touching her arm.

"Uh-huh." Ginny nodded faux-cheerfully.

"Well, are you…" Ron started awkwardly before lobbing Hermione another measured look, "I mean, if you're having second thoughts…it's, you know…"

"Ron!" Hermione sounded shell-shocked at her boyfriend's lack of tact.

"What?" That had completely really thrown Ginny off her track of thoughts and she let out a chuckle, all her thoughts banished from her mind for a second. "No, Ron, you _idiot_. I'm not having second thoughts!" She said, sparing him from Hermione's coming retributive diatribe.

"I can't believe you just asked her that!" Hermione muttered, reprimandingly.

"Well, clearly, you were not going to!" Ron retorted, but there was also a note of defiance and embarrassment tucked in his voice.

"There is a time and place for everything. You can't just ask a girl out of the blue if she's thinking about calling off her wedding, just like that!"

"Guys, it's okay." Ginny laughed. God, they were always bickering. It was really amusing to see them in their element all the time if she didn't have other things on her mind. "Really. I am not having second thoughts. I will marry Harry…" Her voice trailed off in a haze of uncertainty and she voiced, in a low murmur, something she didn't even know she was worried about until then, "…if he still wants to."

"What was that?" Hermione asked softly.

"Oh, nothing." She shook her head, clearing her throat.

"Marry Harry…" Ron suddenly spurted out, "That rhymed, you know." He sniggered.

Hermione smacked his hand. "You're such a child sometimes, Ron!" Then she added to Ginny curiously, "What's that in your hand?" Her eyes had flitted towards the tied-up parchment.

"This?" Ginny's brain strained to make something up quickly, "This…is a…letter." _Duh_, she thought drily. "Uhh…from a friend. She owled that she wouldn't be able to make it today."

Then not without meeting Hermione's eyes, which was – Ginny could feel – scrutinizing her demeanour and trying to find an anomaly in what she delivered, and rolling her eyes at Ron because he was still doing what he thought was a hilarious rendition of "Marry Harry", Ginny stood up hurriedly.

"I think I am going to go to my room. Wedding in a few hours!" She quipped as chirpily as possible and tottered towards the stairs.

And she was hit with a wave of gratitude that Hermione didn't follow her.


	2. Chapter 2

Ginny took her time to shower. She had hoped it would do something to her crammed-up brain, and it did. When she emerged nearly an hour later, she felt almost freshened up and preened and pumped up.

Yes, just _almost_.

Then her eyes fell on the brown parchment reposed innocuously on her bedside table with the towel and her gaze snagged on the ring – sterling silver, studded in the centre with rainbow moonstone – lying beside the letter.

As she took it in her hand and slipped it on her finger, another flash of that day sailed into her mind.

They had been in Harry's place in Diagon Alley…a moderately distinguishable and snuggly place with two bedrooms, one living room and a kitchen, where Ginny had been standing, leaning against the white-marbled kitchen counter, sipping butterbeer torpidly. And watching Ron and Hermione reclined on the plushy velvet of the cushions on the couch in the living room and play chess on the table before them.

Ron had been jeering smugly at his present win and Hermione'd retorted something with a petulant face. Ginny had watched Ron lean forward and say something, his lips curving up mischievously. Hermione had flushed visibly, then swatted his arm which he'd had draped on hers, both resting on the table. But she had been laughing grudgingly too, her eyes crinkling with genuine delight and happiness. Then Ron had bent forward again and planted a kiss on Hermione's bowed head. Hermione had looked up, her face swelling with a fond expression and the vestige of the laugh as she'd rested one arm on the side of his face and kissed him deeply on the lips.

Ginny remembered feeling as if she had been intruding on something vastly personal for a long time, so she'd wheeled around quickly. But she also remembered having something tug at the base of her heart, a kind of wistful tingle tickling her at the pit of the stomach.

She'd missed Harry at that moment. She had hardly seen him for the past few days, he had been so busy with the Auror training and the final exams that would cinch his fate.

Ginny, of course, had been supportive; but that hadn't really eroded the slight hollowness that Harry's such long-dragged absence caused sometimes. She'd stared into her butterbeer, stirring the glass with her hand inadvertently.

Presently, there had been a sound of the front door clicking, and she'd turned her head around to see Harry sauntering into the living room.

"Hey, Harry." Hermione had called. They had no longer been kissing. Well, obviously.

"Hey, mate." Ron had chirped too and returned to the chess at hand.

"Don't spill the butterbeer over the rug this time." Harry had grinned at Ron, who rolled his eyes, and shaking his head, had approached Ginny.

He seemed to be in a good mood, Ginny had thought and that had sobered and buoyed up her spirits explicitly. He had been straining under a riling and racking amount of pressure these past few days. She had smiled at him and kissed him on his cheek.

"Hey," She'd said.

"So guess what?"

"What?" Ginny had raised her eyebrows, amused at his sudden influx of enthusiasm.

"You are living on-and-off with the new Auror of the Ministry of Magic."

"What?" Ginny had almost dropped the glass she was holding as she'd grasped the actuality of the news. "That's so great!" She'd thrown her arms around his neck in ripples of laughter. But something had popped into her mind and frowning, she'd pulled back hastily. "But I thought the results were supposed to be out tomorrow or the day after."

"Well, it was…" Harry had nodded, "But I have some pretty good connections in the department, as you well know…" He'd broken off intimatingly.

Ginny'd laughed again. "I can't believe you're an _Auror_ now!" She had kissed his lips softly again. "You totally deserve it. I mean, you deserve it more than _anyone_." She had squeezed Harry's hand sincerely and again wrapping her arms around his neck, buried her head in his shoulders.

Harry had pulled her closer tightly in his arms and they'd stood there that way, a comfortable silence undulating between them for a while.

And then – "Marry me."

Ginny had felt her hair blow by Harry's sudden whisper, and her hand had stilled on his back. Slowly she'd pulled back from him, her hand still draped around his neck loosely and looked up at his face which had now been infused with an earnest look and intensity.

"What?" She'd given a cautious laugh, though her heart had been pattering against her chest boisterously.

"Marry me." He'd smiled and wriggling out of her grasp, fumbled in his pocket. Then he had taken out a white-coloured box tied with a purple ribbon and opened the lid.

Ginny's eyes had timidly flickered toward the ring carved into the box and had stayed there adamantly, not wanting to move away. It was a gorgeous and beautiful silver ring, with light glinting off the rainbow moonstone adorned in the centre.

"I bought it as soon as I got the news." Harry had said in a kind of gravelly voice and she'd looked into his face. He was gazing at the ring now. Then deciding something, he'd met her eyes. "Okay, before you say anything…I know it's too soon. I mean, we are just in the beginning of our career, and we have a long way to go. And maybe we shouldn't be thinking about such big commitments now, of all times, but I did anyway, because…" Harry had paused and taken a deep breath, the bulge in his throat suddenly conspicuous as it'd traversed up an inch and back down.

And Ginny would have found the whole thing very cheesy and banal had it not for the fact that it was completely unexpected, coming from Harry, and that he had been looking like he was floundering with this tirade the whole time. She couldn't have been (even if she wanted to) oblivious to the fact that Harry wasn't that inclined to being much voluble about his emotions, letting them exposed unbarred. In fact, he was really lousy at articulating them properly, and as far as Ginny could remember, it was the first time that he was this expressible with her.

And honestly, Ginny had wanted to say "Yes" at that moment more than anything; the word had been just looming on the tip of her tongue, ready to fall out, and she'd wanted to let it fall out more than anything.

But she had also been simply bowled over by this startling flip in his emotional system, an event in the novelty of which she'd just wanted to revel for a while. (Yes, she could be selfish sometimes.) So she'd just gazed at his sharp, chiselled face and that awry, tousled hair and that scar tinting his forehead on which a fringe of hair was flopped and the round glasses perched on his eyes, and she'd waited.

"Because…" Harry had continued somberly, "the first thing I wanted to do when I heard the news was to tell you." He had looked up then, holding Ginny's eyes. "Because I just spent the past week hardly seeing you, and all these days when I came home too exhausted and didn't see you here waiting up for me –"

Here Ginny had opened her mouth to protest, but Harry had put his hand on her mouth in order to thwart her.

"–– which _I_ specifically told you not to, yes," he'd said, releasing her mouth, "because, I thought you would be too tired by the time I come home, and I would be too tired to see you or do anything or whatever. But I've never been more wrong, because I could never be _too_ _anything_ to see you." He'd ruffled through his hair with his free hand then, heaving a long breath and looked down again.

There had now been a huge lump wedged into Ginny's throat, which she had strenuously swallowed. Her eyes had started to well up – which was unusual, for she scarcely cried in front of anyone – and her hands had been groped around the engagement ring box steadfastly, so she wouldn't even have been able to wipe the tears, lest they should fall, which she'd hoped they didn't.

But she also couldn't have looked away from Harry, who had now gone back to gazing at the ring in her hand, so she had blinked a few times hastily to dry away her eyes before Harry could spot that.

"And then I got this news, and…I don't know," he'd lifted his head and shrugged, "It just felt right." He'd looked down into Ginny's brown eyes, and she could see the limpid translucence of the green in his through his glasses. "And, well, I am so in love with you that I don't want to have to go to bed any more day without seeing you. Ever."

Well, Ginny's staunch resolution had been of no use after that. Her brown eyes had treacherously swelled up with tears which had then gently dribbled their way down her cheeks. She'd peremptorily looked down and away from Harry's penetrating gaze to shun the tears away from his vision.

"And _clearly_, I am not as good with my speeches as I thought I was." There was a lilt of amusement in his voice now, "So at the risk of uttering the name that surreally reminds of one of my professors," Harry'd titled her chin up tenderly with his one hand until Ginny had been compelled to look at him again, and flicking the trickling tears off her cheek with his thumb, he had murmured softly, "Ginerva Molly Weasley, will you just do the honour of marrying me already?"

Ginny remembered letting out a soft, throaty chuckle at that, which she'd muffled almost immediately, and wearing a sombre expression, held her chin high and said, "Well, that depends."

"Really?" Harry'd stated drily, rather than asked, raising his eyes confidently, a glint of hilarity in his eyes and in the slight twitch of his mouth. Dropping his arm, he had then taken the ring box from her hand, as if he'd already known the answer.

He probably did, Ginny had thought.

"Mmm-huh. For starters, do you promise to cook the meals everyday?"

"Everyday?"

"Everyday." Ginny had nodded solemnly.

"Okay." Harry had matched her grave countenance and conceded. "I am sensing an 'and' here."

"That's because there is. _And_…do you promise to do the laundry everyday?"

"Everyday?"

"Everyday."

"Well, yes, that's only natural." Harry had sighed and shaken his head.

"And…do you promise to watch the rom-com movies with me when I am feeling down or just want to watch them?"

"I knew it was a bad idea to introduce you to TV." He'd pretended to groan.

"Well, technically, Hermione did. And what's done is done." She'd shrugged.

Harry had now slowly started to untangle the ring from the box.

"So do you?"

"Do I have any other choice?"

"Not that I see." Ginny'd bitten her lips hard to suppress the urge to laugh again.

"Then, yes, I do."

"Okay, and do you…"

"You don't want to push your luck, you know." Harry had taken out the ring from the box now.

"Oh, don't I?" This time, Ginny couldn't help letting her lips curl into a mellow smile. "Well, you _can_. But I'd prefer you don't. I have a thing to do, you see." Harry'd then taken her left hand with his free hand, after setting the box on the kitchen counter.

"Well, then I guess, I could be persuaded." She'd feigned sighing.

"So is that a yes?" He had paused with the ring inches away from her hand, his voice tentative and slightly anxious, which Ginny had only found adorable.

So she had thrown him an ecstatic grin, unable to contain herself any longer. "Yes, I would do the honour of marrying you, Harry James Potter." She'd said emphatically.

Harry had promptly slipped the ring on her finger after that, bringing his lips close to her mouth and grinning, "Thank you for not making me wait forever."

"Though the prospect was pretty tempting." Ginny had grinned too, and their mouths had pressed onto each other's.

"But what I really want to know is, " She had asked when they'd parted, "how long did you take to practise this speech?"

Harry had raised his eyebrows, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and grin on his mouth, "A gentleman never tells."

* * *

The memory now brought another pang of happiness and a lump in her throat and she swallowed it down strainfully. Then she exhaled deeply, and plonked herself down on the bed, her body suddenly sagging with exhaustion.

Exhaustion from tamping down the urge to open the letter, exhaustion from the potpourri of feelings bubbling inside her, exhaustion from just labouring to keep those feeling on her interior terrains.

Anxiety, fear, nervousness, all just bundled up in a tight knot at the abyss of her stomach…

But there was something else too.

Excitement.

She actually felt excited. Fizzles of excitement had been shooting through her body since the arrival of the parchment.

Oh, God…now she felt just selfish and stupid.

Because what about…Harry?

And her own career?

She loved writing in the Prophet…And it's been only a year.

And now if she…

Her thoughts were barred from venturing into any other imaginary petrifying scene by a knock on her door. She looked up to see Hermione's face peeping out from behind the slightly ajar door.

And suddenly it felt just frazzling to keep this in her chest, letting it fester into a heavy burden without having anyone to share it with. The juxtaposition of the myriad of feelings brewing inside her left her unsettled and listless.

She realized she just needed someone to tell her what to do, though she was not at all accustomed to feeling this needy. She always did things on her own, hadn't relied really on any one on many things.

But this…she needed advice and coaxing with.

"I may be pregnant." She half-whispered, her voice suddenly choked with undaunted tears. But she was sure Hermione had heard her.

She felt Hermione sitting down beside her on the bed slowly.

"Are you serious?" She sounded copiously excited. "That's so great, Ginny!" Then she juddered to an abrupt halt and her voice grew flummoxed, "Wait. What do you mean, you _may_ be?"

"I mean, I don't know yet. I can't open it." Ginny put her head in her hands, inches above from her knees and pursed her lips tight, trying to stymie the stream of tears that was straining to burst out.

God, what was up with her? Since when did she become so teary?

"Where is it?" Hermione asked gently. Ginny motioned toward the letter lying on the table, and saw, in her peripheral vision, Hermione, bending forward and picking it up.

"Why don't you want to know, Ginny? What's wrong?" Her voice was coated with a thick layer of worry.

"I am just feeling so selfish." Ginny finally looked up at Hermione and met her eyes. "Harry just started his job at the Ministry. He shouldn't have to put up with this now."

"But Harry would want to put up with this!" Hermione said earnestly.

"But what if he's not? What if it's just too much for him?" Tears started to spill from her eyes and she mopped them with her hand ungraciously and carelessly.

"Ginny, it's Harry we are talking about." Hermione said reasonably. "You really don't need to worry." She paused a breath. "But do _you_ want it?"

Ginny didn't say anything for a moment and just stared at the brown parchment now clasped around Hermione's fingers.

"I…I don't know. I can't decide."

"Okay…well, open the letter and you won't have to." Hermione said lightly, "For all you know, you might not even be pregnant.

"Right." A queasy feeling assailed her at hearing that. But she shook her head and steadied her nerves. "Right. Ummm…will you open it for me? Please?" She eyed Hermione beseechingly.

Hermione smiled and nodded. Slowly she untied the parchment and straightened it before up. Ginny closed her eyes and clenched the bedsheet fiercely with her hand, waiting for the inevitable to befall her.

Hermione didn't say anything for about a minute. Anxious and nettled slightly, Ginny opened her eyes to find her gazing down at the letter with a nonplussed countenance carving her face.

"What is it, Hermione? Just tell me."

Hermione bit her lips and turned towards her, tears now welling up in her eyes. Ginny's heart sagged irrevocably; she didn't realize she was holding her breath. She released her grip on the bed sheet which was now crumpled and blemished with lines.

She wasn't pregnant.

Well, that should be a relief to her, right? It would resolve everything.

It wasn't like she and Harry were _planning_ or anything. So she shouldn't be feeling any stab of disappointment or sting of misery or any depressing sentiment at all. And she sure as hell shouldn't be crying over this.

Only she was.

She realized that when Hermione's profile became blurry in front of her, a screen of water murking her vision. Because, oh Merlin, she did want it, didn't she? Even if it was for a moment?

"Don't cry!" Hermione squeaked through her tears, which only escalated Ginny's crying. "Don't cry! You are pregnant! Congratulations!"

Ginny froze, looking up at Hermione's tear-swollen face through her own stream of tears.

"W-What?" She stammered, wiping her eyes hastily.

"You're pregnant! Oh my god, I cannot believe this!" Hermione let out a shrilly and watery laugh, and flung her arms around Ginny who was stilled at the spot, flabbergasted somehow.

She _was_ pregnant.

Her hands were resting limply at Hermione's sides, her mind grappling frantically to make the words fathomable enough.

She, Ginny Weasley, was _pregnant_.

Finally, after a shell-shocked moment of unbridled shock, her clogged-up brain seemed to register the veracity of the situation with a jolt, and she returned the hug with undulating tightness, a sudden gurgle of laughter erupting from her lips and another effusion of tears from her eyes.

Oh, bloody God. She was pregnant.

And she was bawling _again_.

After what seemed to be an infinity of sporadic crying and laughing, they pulled apart, their mien now retreating to normalcy.

"God, I've been crying an awful lot these days. It's like I've opened a tear-gate or something." Ginny squirmed inwardly.

"Oh, it must be because of the hormones, you know." Hermione said knowledgeably. "They get into an overdrive, and every emotion is heightened during pregnancy."

"So you mean, I will be crying some more in the coming months?" Ginny asked, wrinkling her nose.

"You will probably go hysterics in the coming months!" Hermione guffawed, "I can just imagine Harry's face when you will deliver the news. Newly wed and already a would-be father." She sniggered.

And her jitteriness and anxiety were back again. "I will tell him before the wedding." Ginny said after a moment.

Hermione looked perplexed. "But you're not supposed to meet the groom before the wedding."

"But I have to tell him before the wedding. I can't let him walk into this without letting him know the truth." Ginny realized she sounded a little panic-stricken, but she couldn't help it.

"But why? It wouldn't make any difference. It's bad luck to see the groom before the wedding, Ginny."

"Then I will find some other way…But he has to know before the wedding." Hermione perused her for several seconds.

Then she asked, "You think after knowing this, Harry would back out of the wedding, don't you?"

"I don't know." Ginny heaved a laborious breath. "I just know he should know what he is walking into."

Hermione didn't say anything immediately. She seemed to choose her word cautiously when she said, "Ginny, Harry would want this child. You have nothing to worry about."

And the conviction in her voice was a tenacious and staunch one. Ginny thought it was unwavering, the way she said it.

And she wanted to believe it. She wanted nothing more than that at that moment.

So she did. At that moment.

"You really think so?" She spoke in a rough voice, and it caught.

"Yes. I really do." Hermione placed her hand on Ginny's and squeezed it gently. "Now you really should get up and get ready." She said brusquely, standing up. "It's gonna start in an hour."

Ginny tossed her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Hermione. I…owe you one." She said, feeling inadequate.

"Well, I will make you pay it off, don't worry." Hermione teased.

Ginny chortled amenably. "Okay. And you should get ready too. I don't want my Maid of Honour looking like Moaning Myrtyle."

"Hey, you look more like her than I!" Hermione said indignantly. Then her face broke into a wide smile and shaking her head, she padded out of Ginny's room.

Ginny stood up and paced toward her window through which she could envisage a marquee erected in the front garden. Birds and bees were fluttering and twittering and tinkering in the lush garden, swirling around the hats of the throng of people who were snuggled into dress robes of various colours, arriving in a perennial flow and milling around the ground, tittering with each other, deluging themselves in the balmy breaths of Spring and soaking in the protective, soothing warmth of the sun.

It was a nice vista unfoiling before her…_for_ her.

And still…still she couldn't purge herself of the nagging feeling that was gnawing at her inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so I think I need to put some disclaimer in the story, which I forgot to do in the last two chapters, of course. So here it is.**

**Disclaimer****: I cannot even _pretend_ to own Harry Potter. It's all J.K. Rowling's, thankfully.**

**And**** just to gush, thank you for following the story so far and favoriting it. 3 That was way too kind, since I don't even know what I'm doing with this.**

**And I can't seem to break the chapters properly either, so they are a bit too long for one wedding. xD**

**But please bear with me, there are only two or so more chapters.**

* * *

Ginny stood in front of her mirror, and surveyed her reflection. She hadn't put on her make-up yet, but other than that, she looked nice, she thought. Or at least her dress did.

She was draped into a white wedding gown of satin and tulle, constricted at the waist, trailing to the floor; her shoulders were bare, her hair hauled up into a loose knot on the top of her head with a couple of tendrils slinging down her sides at the front. Her aunt Muriel had proffered her with a tiara to wear for the wedding, but right now it was lying inertly on the dressing table.

From the knot in her hair was dangling a white veil of net, the end of which she was twirling with her hand to keep her stomach from doing the pirouettes it was doing, and her heart from beating at a conspicuous and raging speed.

And they were not just wedding nerves.

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, endeavouring not to forage for the reason of her jitteriness. She had tried to escape from the feeling. She knew she shouldn't think like that. She knew Harry wasn't like that; he would want it.

Only…she couldn't just dispel the faint ominous thoughts from her mind.

Because what if she forced him to do it? What if he was not ready for it and just because of the binding necessity of the marriage, he would have to parent a child anyway? He would come to resent her eventually – which would be way worse.

And she couldn't blame him for not being ready now, not really. He was only twenty-three. Nobody would want as huge and colossal a responsibility as rearing up a child at that age.

She heaved a jaded breath, and made an essay to placate herself. The wedding was going to start in a while; whatever she had to do, she had to do it quick. A rattled Mrs. Weasley had already checked on her twice to know if she was ready. Two more rounds of such interrogation were to be anticipated, at least, she gathered.

She trotted toward the door with much difficulty, having to hold the trailing dress, and held it open a smidge. Spotting a relative, she asked for Hermione and told her to send her up urgently.

Hermione appeared after a few seconds, her disposition harrowed.

"What is it, Ginny? Are you feeling nauseous or something?"

To her unadulterated surprise, Ron rushed into the room too, holding a glass in his grasp.

"Drink it." He said hastily, "It will soothe your nerves, and also…the…the thing." He ended awkwardly, casting a nervous glance toward her belly and scratched his head. "Or so I heard from Aunt Mary once, anyway." Then he shook his head with apparent dread at the remembrance of the scene that was clearly being regurgitated in his mind.

For a moment, Ginny was frozen to the spot, not blinking.

"You _told_ him?" She almost yelped, glaring at Hermione. "I haven't even told Harry yet!"

Hermione's face was scrunched up with distress, somehow. She lobbed Ron a scary glance and turned to Ginny with a pleading look etched on her face. "I am so sorry, Ginny! I am really sorry." She almost looked on the verge of tears. "It just…slipped out. I didn't mean to tell him."

"Oh, I knew I shouldn't have told you! You tell Ron every bloody thing!" Ginny tried to say it scathingly, but it came out as much less harsh. "Who else have you told?"

"No one! I am so sorry, Ginny. I really didn't mean to tell him." She touched her arm imploringly. "But what's happened? Why did you call me?"

"I have to tell Harry. Now." She said, averting their eyes, but added the last part with a tinge of steely determination so as to daring them to contradict her.

"Isn't it bad luck to see the groom before the wedding?" Ron asked with a mildly baffled expression.

"I don't care." Ginny replied angrily. "Can you just tell him to meet me here now?"

"But why do you…Oww!" Ron let out a squawk and was prevented from saying anything. From the corner of her eyes, Ginny could see Hermione saying something to him, but she didn't venture to scout what. She could already hazard a guess.

"What?" Ron's laughter made her glimpse toward him with a frown. He turned to Ginny. "But that's ridiculous! Harry will never back out of the wedding, Ginny." He said it as if it was the most unconceivable and hilarious thought in the world, and a ripple of exasperation surged through Ginny.

She raised her eyebrows menacingly at her brother. "Will you just do what I told you to?"

"Okay." Ron sobered up. "And…even if he does, I will snap his wand and hex him." He added noncommittally.

Hermione moaned timidly. "Ron, _must_ you make a joke out of everything?"

"But I am not joking! What, you think I can't take him?" Ron appeared affronted, swivelling toward her.

"I didn't say that…"

"Guys," Ginny waved her hand impatiently before their squabbling turned into an unapprehendable whirlwind of hollering words, "Can you do the bickering _after_ you've fetched Harry?"

"Oh yes, right." Hermione said somewhat shame-facedly, and started to back out of the room. But she paused again before reaching the door, "But are you sure, Ginny?"

"Yes, I am more than sure." Said Ginny firmly. Then for good measure, she added, "And try not to spill the news to him yourselves. I want to do it, you know." She retorted, but also let a smile creep on her face so as to let Hermione know she didn't begrudge her.

Well, not really.

"I am sorry." She said again and retreaded her steps out of the room.

Ron stood there in front of her for a moment, then awkwardly began, "Well, I never did say congratulations." He said in a rough voice, not meeting her eyes. "So, you know, congrats." Ginny smiled fondly at her brother.

"Thanks, Ron." Ron recuperated in an instant, heralding her sister's smile as a good omen. He paced up to her and hugged her slightly. "Blimey, an uncle already!" He said after a moment when he had unclasped his grip on her. "That's wicked!"

Ginny couldn't help guffawing a little at her brother's ostensibly chipper tone. "Yeah, it is. Now go help Hermione." She needed to be alone, to frame some speech or something. She couldn't just ambush a guy with the news.

"Oh, she knows where Harry is." He shrugged. Then noticing the raised eyebrows of his sister, he relented. "But maybe not the _exact_ location...I will go."

After he'd swept out of the room, Ginny turned to the mirror before her, her eyes slithering past her hair and down her white dress, skidding to a stop only at her coveted belly.

She landed a soft hand on her stomach, her eyes riveted to the flattened white-sheathed part of her body. It wasn't bulging out now – for which she was so grateful – but somehow, she could feel as if something had been lodged into there, burgeoning inside.

_Because something_ _had_, she realized with an alarming lurch.

All the while she was thinking that she was pregnant, she wasn't really _feeling_ it, was she?

She was not really seeing behind the veneer of the solitary word.

But it's not just one word, not really.

It was a whole new _person_. Growing up inside her, breathing there every second.

She felt an eerie wrench at her navel, her cheeks suddenly heating up with an unexpected but unmitigated delight, her insides melting with an unfamiliar softness. There was an audible insinuation of a commotion just outside her door, but Ginny didn't pay any heed. She was gazing down at her reflection, transfixed.

"Ginny? What's wrong?" Harry's sudden voice made her jump and glance up; her eyes met with his in the mirror. "Ron and Herm…" He faltered in his track as his eyes glided from her head to toe in one astounded glimpse.

"Wow." He breathed out in a raspy tone. "You look…Well, you look quite out of my league there." He cleared his throat and closed the door behind him.

Ginny repressed the urge to smile and raised her eyebrows. "I haven't put on any makeup yet."

"Doesn't really matter, does it?" He gave her a wry smile.

"Well, you cleaned up pretty good too." Ginny shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant as she eyed his form set into a dress robe.

The bright morning light coming from the window on Harry's side and subsuming the room had cast a pale shimmering shine on him, glinting off his glasses and plunging his structure into a luminous prominence. Honestly, she couldn't take her eyes off him either. She felt like squeezing him into her arms, say everything that was inflating her insides.

Then she caught his eyes in the mirror, and chuckling gently, returned her gaze toward her stomach again.

This was the time. Ginny tried to think up something to lead the news with in jittery anticipation.

"I try." Harry shrugged with shadowed modesty. "But you do know that your mother will have a fit if she sees me here, right? She is threatening enough today without – "

Oh, sod it, Ginny thought as she took a deep breath.

"I am pregnant, Harry." She blurted out bluntly, her head bent downward still.

She didn't dare take a look at Harry; the blow of disappointing – or, anything less than happy – lineaments appearing on his face would be too crushing for her to brook with a straight face.

"I am sorry?" came Harry's voice without any inflections.

"I am pregnant." Ginny reiterated, calmer this time, "I found out this morning." She paced up to the window and she ploughed on unflinchingly before she could change her mind, "Look, I know this isn't what we had planned, that it wasn't even on the _radar_ of our planning. But – well, it happened and I am not sorry for it." Her voice shook infinitesimally with resolution.

"But…well, I'd totally understand if you're not ready for this. I mean, we are what, twenty-three, twenty-four? So yeah, I'd understand. The…" She rallied with whatever gravity she could summon, managing not to let her voice belie what she was feeling, "The wedding can be called off, if you want. I wouldn't hold you to it." She stopped, a deep breath wafting out of her, waiting for Harry to say something.

She waited for what seemed like an eternity. But whatever Ginny was expecting – which she still hadn't figured out yet – didn't come.

Impatient and taut with nerves, she swivelled around and found Harry plopped on her bed, his back bent forward, his elbows pressed on his thighs with entwined hands propped erect in front of him; his face unnerved, and eyes unfocused but tethered to the floor.

All fleeting feelings of fury and impatience whooshed out of her in a second. "Harry?" She said gingerly, and flopped down beside him, "Say something. You're scaring me." She touched his forearm tentatively.

Harry stirred at Ginny's touch and swung his head toward her.

"What?" He said blankly.

"Aren't you gonna say something?" A suspicious thought flitted through her mind. "Did you even listen to anything I just said?"

"Uhh.." He began unconvincingly and Ginny moved her arm away from him in agitation, riled by his dearth of reaction.

"I said I am preg –"

"Oh, yes, I got that part." Harry said and shook his head. Then a smile slowly perforated his face until he let out a mild snort, befuddling and stupefying Ginny into an unpunctuated silence. "I was just trying to think back to the day when this actually happened, you know. I am pretty sure it was that night when the Ministry officially announced the names of the new Aurors." He said, his face thoughtful.

Ginny didn't know how to respond. She had been too tangled up in her failing attempts at deciding what was going to happen in the future to spare a second to retrace that long back in the past to find out _which day _it happened on.

Men were incredibly weird, she concluded dazedly.

But Harry had again turned his head toward the floor, the vestige of the laugh still plastered on the fringe of his mouth and in the crease beside his eyes, so he didn't notice Ginny's incredulous shaking of head at him. "They'd held a press conference, remember? So you had to come down there with your reporter friends from the Prophet too. And I think…yeah, I was just talking to one of your friends when you – "

"She was not a _friend_." Ginny retorted scathingly, rolling her eyes. Her defused brain had finally been snapped as flashes of the said night impinged on her mind again. "Friends do not hit on other friends' fiancés."

"Ginny, she was just asking some basic questions about my job." Harry said, amusement tinting the greenish glint of his eyes.

"By touching your arm all the time and batting her eyelids at you as if she would gobble you up _right_ _there_?" Ginny said disbelievingly. "Trust me, she was hitting on you."

"Ohkay…Is _that_ why you dragged me into the empty room and ripped off my clothes so urgently?" Harry's mouth twisted into a lopsided grin, "You were jealous? Hmm, flattering. And here I was thanking the too many shots of firewhisky you had that night."

"First, that wasn't jealousy. I was just showing that hag she wasn't yours to hit on." Ginny said with an unabashed face. "And second, don't pretend you were saint in all this. You were clearly enjoying the attention." She arched his eyebrows at him accusatorily.

"Well, that worked out pretty great in my favour, didn't it?" He grinned.

"Wow, you aren't even trying to deny it!" Ginny shoved him mock-angrily, though she wasn't able to stump the flow of grudging laugh that emanated from her.

After the air of laughter had subsided a little, they were silent for another moment, Ginny thinking about that night somewhat wistfully. It was such an aberrant and foolhardy behaviour on her part, she'd even surprised herself then. The firewhiskey definitely needed to take _some_ credit.

And now they'd ended up here.

Which landed her back to the reality.

She tried to clear her head and spoke up, "Do you regret it?"

"Why would I regret it?" Harry's brows were knit into a frown and she lowered her eyes again.

"It isn't what we'd planned, you know." She tried to sound sarcastic, and managed in the essay to some extent. But in the end, her voice came out as hoarse and gave a treacherous wobble. She bit her lips.

"So we'd replan everything." Harry said matter-of-factly.

"And what about your career? My career?" She straightened up and faced him properly, the urge to explain her scruples and doubts and questions superseding all else, and willing him, _urging_ him to squash them. "You finally got the job you always wanted. This…this changes everything. You realize that, don't you?"

"I do and yes, it does." Harry paused. "But change is not a bad thing always. And it's not like they will sack me just because I gave in to the urge to offer the world my generous offspring or anything" He said jokingly, but his attempt at levity was shot down as Ginny just tossed him a wry upturn of her lips and a lifted eyebrow.

"You can be so dense sometimes." Harry shook his head, took her hands into his and gliding from the bed, hunkered down in front of her on the emerald-blue carpet. "Ginny, I never had a proper family of my own. And…well, when I said I wanted to marry you, it wasn't only because I was in love with you – which I still am and always will be, by the way –" Harry reassured hurriedly, eliciting a smile from Ginny, "but it was also because I wanted a family of my own, with you. So you've officially made me the happiest person on earth today." He ended sincerely.

She grinned, looking at his face and tracing his jawline with her finger, then admitted in a small voice, "It's too soon, though."

"Do you regret it?" He asked.

"No, not at all." Ginny replied promptly.

Harry nodded, as if he also needed to confirm that from her.

"Yes, it's a real bummer." He conceded slowly to her earlier confession. "And it's gonna derail _both_ of our careers. But that's nothing to get upset over. We will manage it together. All right?"

Ginny looked at him, and there was an unfettered intensity in those translucent green eyes, the same intensity that she'd seen during his proposal speech. Her chest tightened inexplicably, all the piled-up emotions that were pent-up within her struggling to get ousted in a coherent foil of words.

But no, it was too hard; she would choke and then start crying. Which is the last thing she wanted, given she'd already cried enough today to make up for a lifetime. So she just nodded at him meekly and Harry, lifting her hands up to his mouth, kissed her fingers softly.

Then he stood up and Ginny scrambled to her feet too. "Did you really think I would freak out at the news?" He swept a strand of her hair away from her forehead with one hand as another one held her waist. His voice was curious, not accusatory.

"I guess." Ginny acquiesced, shrugging. "I mean, it isn't exactly every 24-year old guy's late-night fantasy, is it?" She managed to quip, cracking a small smile.

"Well, true that. _My_ late-night fantasies – "

"Not interested, really." Ginny cut her off, pursing her lips, although they unacquiescently curled up at the side.

"Fair enough." Harry laughed and closed his arms around her tightly, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"Mmm-hmm." Ginny said contently, all the jumbled knots stationed at the base of her stomach having withered away into plumes of nothings. "Right back at you." She lifted her head from his embrace, cradled his face in her hands and brought his lips to hers.

* * *

"Aahh," somebody coughed after some moments had passed that way, and Ginny broke away from Harry. George was leaning against the doorway, a smirk perched on his mouth.

"The sweet nauseating nature of young love." He drawled. "What's up, would-be brother-in-law?" His eyebrows danced at Harry. "Couldn't stay away from making out with my little sis for a minute?"

"Guilty as charged." Harry grinned, lifting his arms up in the air in a gesture of surrender. "I was just leaving."

"Yes, I'm _sure_ you were." A mischievous sheen was evinced in George's eyes. "And little sis, does our not-at-all-insane _mum_ know that he is in your room?"

"George." Ginny arched her eyebrows threateningly.

"Hey, my lips are sealed." He grinned benevolently and tottered into the room with a languid gait. "I just came to see if you were considering my elopement offer." He slumped into the bed. "Wedding ceremonies are so overrated." He looked up at Harry, as if to say _I__sn't it?_

"Well, this _is_ pretty tedious." Harry opined malleably. But Ginny flung a raised eyebrow compiled with a dry look in his direction, and he swerved track. "But anything to get to watch those amazing romantic comedies with you every night, of course." He bobbed his head solemnly.

Ginny couldn't muffle the smile this time. "Better."

"Ohh…you're doomed, brother." George made out a pained groan.

Ginny resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. "So are you." She said to him and turned to her fiancé again. "Well, you should leave now, Harry. No one should test Mum's anomaly detection power for too long." She winked at him and kissed his cheek. "See you at the altar, fiancé."

After Harry had compliantly trundled out of the room, Ginny strode toward the mirror, and put on some make-up. She really wasn't that fussy. Then she picked up the tiara from the table, and placed it on her head. She noticed her brother snicker silently at her. "What are you sniggering about?" She whipped around to face him.

"Well, those love potions you bought at our store worked all the way, huh?"

Ginny scrounged the bed with her eyes, and spotting the throw pillow on the side of the bed, chucked it at George's head with her wand, though he deftly ducked it.

"You prat!" She pitched a grudging chortle at him nonetheless, swivelling toward the mirror again.

But the laughter lines faded off her face slowly; the _our_ that George uttered while mentioning the store seemed to linger in the air, hanging there like an invisible curl of smoke, inflating her with an overwhelming caprice to whimper out loud. Clamping down on the surge of emotions, she stared resolutely at her reflection.

George got off the bed and put his arms around her shoulders. Ginny's eyes traversed towards her brother in the mirror and back to herself again. She could suddenly imagine Fred on the other side of her….

And then she didn't have to imagine anymore; it was as if she could almost _see_ Fred wearing his cheeky grin, standing on her other side too.

Tears fogged her vision, and she blinked her eyes rapidly to parry them off.

"I know." George squeezed her to his side, his voice gruff, and Ginny couldn't find any traces of the brazen and indolent laughter on his now-grave face as she looked at it. It was a visage outcropped in its rarity, and aching to see, really.

Ginny shook her head, too afflicted and labouring to clog the flow of tears that were threatening to spill, and smiled up at her brother. George pressed his hands on her shoulders more tightly.

"You know Mum was howling down there and running around everywhere. I could still put a Body-bind curse on her till the whole thing is over, if you want. You know Fred wanted that badly." Ginny could hear the grin in his voice and she gave a shaky laugh too.

"I think I will pass on that." She recovered herself and trotted away from the mirror. "Why don't you do it in your own wedding, though?"

"What doesn't he do in his own wedding?" Another voice interrupted their banter, and Ginny smiled widely at the appearance of the brown-skinned girl, attired in a golden, floaty dress with sleek, long hair, who was now peering her head through the doorway.

"Hey, Angelina."

"Put a Body-bind curse on mum." George informed Angelina without missing a beat and turned to his sister again. "And I fully intend to. It would be so much easier."

"Well, I guess I get to have a say in my wedding as well?" Angelina arched one of her eyebrows at George, her expression not exactly severe.

"Oh, by the way," Ginny intervened informatively, "your fiancé called the nature of love – and I quote here – _nauseating_. Just so you know." She told her lippily and returned to smoothing out her dress.

"_Did_ he now?" Angelina's eyebrow mounted further up her forehead as she turned toward George slowly.

"Ginny, don't twist my words. I said _young_ love, didn't I?" Then he looked at Angelina and replied, throwing her what he clearly thought was a disarming grin, "They are so childish. Our love is more _mature_, you know."

"Oh, yes, I do know." Angelina nodded her cognizance in slow motion, narrowing her eyes at George, but a ghost of an amused smile twitched her lips nevertheless. "I will deal with you later. But right now, Ginny needs to get a move on." She clapped her hand commandingly and Ginny was reminded vaguely of her Quidditch days when Angelina used to be the captain.

"I love it when you're in charge." said George, and only when he wriggled his eyebrows at Angelina cockily did Ginny grasp the sexual innuendo tucked into it.

She let out a strangled groan. "Helloooo? Sister in here." She chipped in hastily, raising her hand over her head.

"Shut it, Weasley." Angelina said to him deridingly and hurled him a pointed look before taking Ginny's hand. "Now Ginny, come on."

"I will take her downstairs, if you don't mind." George tilted his head toward Angelina and offered his hand to his sister gallantly.

Ginny craned her head over at her bridesmaid to secure her approbation, and at the sight of her genial smile, she released Angelina's hand and took George's.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: ****J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, not my sorry soul.**

**And I want to thank _Slaidback_ and _Guest_ for their reviews. I ****really _really _appreciate it.**

**And one more thing that I need to say.**** The dialogues for the proposal or vows or other stuff might be a little corny, I understand, I honestly do, but I feel like since it's a wedding, it was unav****oidable (by me) in order to make it feel more real and wedding-y. I feel even Harry would give in to that at the proper time.**

**But I've tried to do it still staying in their characters, or so I think. But if I have failed epically or if it's too much, please let me know.**

* * *

As they trudged down the stairs with Angelina leading the way, the nervous fluttering of the butterflies in Ginny's stomach made a steady upswing, and her heart gave an almighty howl, making her realize she was damn famished. She hadn't eaten anything yet.

But well, she would…she gathered, in a while. Her throat felt constricted at the thought, her lips parched and chapped, and her breathing shallow and rapid. But she was also conscious of a warm glow spreading swiftly through her veins and bones.

The prattling and hullabaloo of the living room had dulled since her last entrance here into a low, faint hum now, with very few people prancing around. Most of the sound of the chattering and buzzing and murmurs was floating in from the general direction of the garden where the Marquee had been set up.

She saw, as she stood on the last step of the stairs, Mrs Weasley sobbing into a handkerchief, her shoulders shaking and her head undulating intermittently. Hermione was crouched over her, doling out what Ginny assumed as words of soothing consolations and rubbing her arm comfortingly, although her mien was a little of a discomfit one as she was glancing repeatedly over at where Ron was huddled with Bill and Charlie and Fleur.

Ginny had a sudden overriding impetus of telling them all about her pregnancy; she felt she should.

But then sanity crept in and she clamped her mouth shut.

She couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of turmoil and hysterics (mostly courtesy to her mother, of course) the house will be thrust into in the wake of deliverance of this bombarding news. No one shouldn't face that alone.

Mr. Weasley walked up to her from behind the stairs as George let go of her hand, shuffling toward the others, and everyone seemed to notice her presence too. Her father was decked in a blue dress robe, a humble and affectionate grin perched on his face as he commented adoringly, "Well, don't you look nice."

Mrs. Weasley, who had now dried her tear-tracks, scurried toward her, "What took you so long? Come on, it's about time!" But as she said the words, her voice broke and her eyes grew brimming with tears again.

Ginny laughed and hugged her mother. "Mum, don't cry now. You don't want to ruin your make-up, you know."

"I can't believe you're all big and getting married!" She hiccupped.

"Well, did you rather I were a spinster all my life?" Ginny pulled back and put on a mock-reproving face for her, even though her lips trembled a bit and her heart sank.

She'd left home a long time back, right after graduating Hogwarts, and had taken a place near Harry's, even though most of the nights she stayed there instead of her own place. And it's not like she was moving to another country after the wedding. And yet, suddenly her mother's swollen eyes and wet cheeks made her see this saddening aspect of marriage: She was officially leaving this family, this home.

Ginny didn't want to think of it as that, she had managed not to think of it as that for all this while. But it crept into her nonetheless, making her mouth quiver and her own eyes well up a little. She blinked rapidly a few times to prevet the tears from falling.

Mrs. Weasley didn't reply, but the water-drops spewing out of her eyes weren't stalled either. Mr Weasley came to the rescue after a minute and wrapping his arms around his wife, moved her to one side. "Now now Molly, she's not a little girl anymore…"

Bill, Charlie and Ron sauntered up to Ginny, all of them donned up in particularly pretty dress robes. Fleur was looking exceptionally ravishing in her golden bridesmaid dress billowing in the end, a gleam of beauty radiating from her. They all piped up to either cheer her up or tease her.

Eventually, Bill reminded them it was time to get going, and Ginny descended on the floor.

Mr. Weasley, by now, had been able to scupper the perpetual stream of wailing from his wife, although his efforts to make her chirrupy again had been clearly abortive.

Ginny put a hand on her mother's hand consolingly again, trying to instil some mirth in her shrivelled form. "Come on, Mum, don't look like that. Look, I will come here so often you will be all up in arms for getting rid of me in no time! And you'll get to come to our place in Diagon Alley all the time, won't you?"

"Actually," Ron started out, "it's - "

But Hermione, seemingly not being able to stand the hold-up any longer, tugged fervently on Ron's arm at that moment to jostle forward in front of Ginny and taking Ginny's arm, shoved her hastily, but not forcefully, toward the main doorway. "Oh, we can chat later! Time's running out, Ginny. Hurry up!" She squeaked.

Ginny tossed her brother and Hermione a squinting suspicious look, wondering what they were concocting now, before she let her father take her arm and lead the way into the bright gleaming outside.

* * *

Ginny had always thought the most amazing part of the wedding ceremony would be the "I do" part in the end.

But then, she didn't have her own wedding.

Until now.

The whole ceremony was over in a tumultuous swirl of music and words and exhilarating laughter before she had even got the chance to grapple with the idea of what was happening. She was dimly aware of the marquee being bedecked with gold, white flowers and garnished with balloons, and the rows of golden chairs adorning a pack of people.

As her father forged his path over to the forefront with her arm slung on his through the aisle between the rows of people, she stuck her eyes with Harry's and since then she hadn't been able to sweep off the broad grin splitting her face.

And now that people were approaching them with glasses of champagne to congratulate them, her mind was flickering occasionally to the moment when Harry had pronounced his vows. Ginny had been plenty surprised and indignant at this unpremeditated change of plans – they were _not_ supposed to do vows of their own.

But that soon was snuffed away as the words made their imprint on her mind. The best bit, according to her, and which she was playing in her head over and over again was:

"…So taking advantage of this solitary day when I'm possibly _expected_ to be utterly cheesy, I'm going to assert that we have a pretty long way to make. And I know that some days, we will be at each other's throats, and you'll have to put up with a lot of my irritating habits – which you already made sure I am aware of and have no doubt will continue to make sure of in the future too, in case I forget," A chuckle had slipped from Ginny at his raised eyebrow, along with an uproar of laughter from behind her, "And, well, let's not forget about the huge amount of risk I'm taking here with your charming habit of Bat-bogey-hexing everything that doesn't suit you..." Another small eruption of laughter from the crowd.

"….But I also know that my life wouldn't be worth anything much without all of your…_things_. Without you. So I'd just like to take solace in the fact that we will be, through all this, together, and that's all I need and will ever need at any moment really." He had held her eyes with a steady, serious gaze, "And I promise that whatever – " He had, at this point, shot a subtle glance and a big smile at her stomach and ploughed on, " – or whomever might come our way, we will manage it together. Always."

Her heart was still in a kind of tizzy and rapid quiver at the remembrance of the word.

She was finally snapped out of her enchanted state when the announcement of making their first dance together was made by someone and, looping hands through Harry's, Ginny made it to the now-empty floor at last.

"Hey, where were you lost back there?" Harry asked her after pulling her closer to him by her waist. "I had to make all the lame thank-yous."

Ginny curled her arms around his neck, "Already complaining?" She let out a snort, "You wouldn't last a week, I can see."

Harry's hands slid up to her back as he pressed them on her back more tightly, causing her to collapse on his chest with a swoop in her stomach and rendering her lips mere inches away from his, "I think I can pull this forever thing off pretty well."

"Well, I'm counting on it, _husband_." She smiled, the last word engendering a unique thrill into her, and brushed her lips over his softly, indolently. A frisson of heat trekked up her spine and spread through her, making her skin tingle all over and soon that spiraled into a more desperate urge to devour him.

When she broke apart reluctantly, Ginny let her head slide to and lean on Harry's chest, listening to the hammering it was eliciting, and they slow danced to the song with a contented bliss that she hadn't felt for a while.

Presently Harry's hand slithered down to her belly, and he spoke quietly after a moment, "So what's the name going to be?"

Ginny raised her head to let out the laugh that had crackled out of her, "You're thinking of names already?"

"Well, why not?" Harry asked, looking slightly affronted.

"Well," Ginny pretended to mull this over, "for starters, we _just_ got married. And we got to know of the baby _today_, which doesn't make me even one-month pregnant. We have plenty of time to decide names."

"I like to think ahead." Harry shrugged, and cloistered Ginny more tightly in his arms, "So…how about Roger if it's a boy and Zephy for a girl?"

"Roger?" Ginny's eyebrows rose upward incredulously, "That sounds like those rocket guys dad is so obsessed about. And Zephy…" She scrunched up her face, "I don't even want to begin with that."

"Okay…" Harry was not to be easily dissuaded or impeded. "Umm…How does Hector sound?" He said after a period of ostensible thinking.

"Horrible." Ginny widened her eyes in manifestation of her dread.

"Arabella?"

"No."

"Alden?"

"Not in this century."

"Lincoln?"

"I am not going to name my child after a surname." Ginny said scornfully.

"Okay okay…" Harry plunged on relentlessly, "Uh…Dudley?"

"Okay, now I _know_ you're messing with me!" Ginny swatted at his arm and he laughed jovially.

"Well, it was worth a shot."

* * *

They swayed to the slow humming of the music, furled in a cocoon of unalloyed and unsullied joy until it stopped, then headed back to their tables, rejoining Ron and Hermione.

"And here comes the happy couple." Ron clinked his glass jocularly as they hoisted themselves on the chairs. Ginny's hand inadvertently slunk away to her belly as she lowered herself. There was no need to, she realized, as it was hardly detectable at this time, just mere weeks into the first trimester. But she had taken to this gesture now; it felt good to rest her arm on it.

From the corner of eyes, she saw Hermione glimpsing her hand-covered belly too and she flushed a little inexplicably.

"So are you guys planning on telling the others today?" Hermione whispered, leaning forward and pressing her arm on the table after sneaking a surreptitious peek over her shoulders.

But the chance of being eavesdropped was really diminished as the tables near them were left empty, for the people occupying them were on the dance floor now.

"Why are you whispering?" Ron asked her, "We are not exactly planning to ambush the Ministry here." He said witheringly.

"Well, anyone can hear us from somewhere, can't they?" Hermione shot him a contemptuous look.

"Yes," Ron nodded gravely, "because we are _such_ interesting folks and people are always just _dying_ to catch a snippet of our captivating conversations." He said, his tone tanged with sarcasm.

Hermione exclaimed, exasperated and her tone acerbic "Oh, sod off, please!"

Ginny looked at Harry amusedly and he shrugged, unconcerned.

"Are you guys in a fight or something?" she asked curiously. It wasn't unusual for them. But it felt to Ginny as if Ron was trying extra hard to piss Hermione off today.

"Whenever aren't they?" Harry laughed.

"No, this looks more like a _couple_ fight." She said, perusing them with her squinting eyes.

But Ron and Hermione looked unperturbed by this visible dissection of their fighting in front of them. They were both looking other ways with stony faces.

Hermione cracked first.

"Well, maybe this time you should ask your brother," she spoke quite suddenly, apparently unable to retain the silence any longer. "Who seems to be brandishing his misogamist views very proudly before everyone today – in a wedding ceremony, no less!" She spat.

But her voice that was tremulous with overtones of aggravation and her glaring eyes that were cast in Ron's direction suggested that she didn't have as much problem with the _place_ in which the pronouncement of his misogamist attitude was made as she did with his _being_ misogamist in the first place.

"I am not a misogamist, per se." Ron countered nonchalantly, "I just don't think the institution of marriage is exactly necessary in these days."

"Since when?" Ginny arched her brows at Ron disbelievingly, but Ron merely gave a noncommittal shrug. She looked at her brother's face; he was pursing his lips strongly, his expression impenetrable. But she knew her brother, so this sudden flip in his ideology struck her as rather absurd.

She also had a feeling the straight face he was maintaining was more due to forestall a gust of laughter than to check any exacerbated, retorting sentiments toward his girlfriend.

She swung her head toward Harry, who was chuckling at them silently. And when he caught her looking at him with an expression mingled with perplexity, he shook his head at her and Ginny got the message of not to poke in the matter anymore. Ron was probably playing a prank on her or something, she supposed.

Still she wanted to pierce this air of silence hanging among them. A sudden idea broke through her out of the blue; she perked up, wondering why she didn't think of this before.

The idea seemed to be the result of such a natural motivation that the delay in thinking of it forced her to blurt it out inadvertently, "Well, you guys wouldn't want to be the Godparents, would you now?"

As soon as she said it, she realized she didn't ask Harry once about this. She had an inkling that Harry wouldn't have any problem with this decision, but still she turned over in her seat to peer at his face and was relieved to see it was crinkled into a wide grin.

He nodded at her and straightened up, cottoning on, "Yes, you guys seem too busy to fight all the time, anyway."

But it was as if a sudden spark of lightening had spiked the other duo out of their state of tacit agitation. They both sat upright with a jolt, nearly knocking over the glasses of champagne placed on the table before them.

"What?" Hermione's round eyes almost bulged out of the sockets.

"Blimey. You serious, mate?" Ron sounded stunned.

"Well, why not?" Harry grinned.

And no sooner had the words spurted out of his mouth than Hermione flung herself around them both. Ginny was thrust backward a tad by this sudden exuding of her excitement, but she was bowled over all the same, and returned her embrace with genuine alacrity.

After her, Ron saddled them in a hug with one arm too. When some minutes had passed in this intoxicated state, Ron resumed the quest Hermione had begun.

"So when are you gonna tell Mum?" His eyes drifted from Harry to Ginny, then reverted to Harry again.

"Well…" Ginny trailed off, looking at Harry and waiting for him to take the cue.

"I don't know." Harry lowered his head and scratched his neck uncertainly. "How about after nine months? It will be the surprise of the century." He lobbed them a grin.

"It would be the _ruckus_ of the century, mate. Mum won't probably recover from the shock ever." Ron guffawed, pleased with his own joke.

"Well, _I_ think," Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to dispatch the conversation in a serious direction, "it would be prudent to let them know in the next week or so. By then, all this wedding drama will be over too."

Ginny nodded. She liked the idea; it would be only sane, she thought. "Yeah. It sounds about right." She shrugged.

Ron staggered to his feet, chugging a last swig from his glass and emptying it as he put it down on the table again, "Well, I think I am finally in the mood to shake my booty." He extended a hand to Hermione, who was staring resolutely down her feet. "Can I just have this one dance, woman?"

Hermione did not say anything for a moment and continued to feign deafness. But that couldn't prolong much. At last she looked up at his long, slinky profile and thrust her hand into his grudgingly.

"Fine." She grunted and stood up. "See you guys in a minute." She smiled at Harry and Ginny, and they flounced away together.

"So what was that about?" Ginny asked as soon as they were out of earshot, "Ron is anything but a _misogamist_." She rolled the last word in her tongue derisively.

Harry grinned enigmatically, an aura of secrecy hovering around him.

"What? Spill already!" She rushed him impatiently.

"He is going to propose to Hermione tonight." Harry finally gave in to his indulgence of not making her wait long. "After we leave, I guess. He's just warming up his foreplay now."

Ginny gasped and gaped at Harry. "Seriously? But then why is he acting like a complete git to her?"

"Well, aside from the fact that he can't help it, I'd say it's to increase the surprise element. You know, to throw her off the tracks – which, given it's Hermione, must be on the wedding road today, with all these marriage talks."

"But that's so great!" Ginny said excitedly, "I wish I could be there to see her face!" she said.

Ginny remembered how after Harry had proposed to her and she all but had squealed in delight, Ron and Hermione had scurried over to them abandoning their game, and hugged and teased them profusely. It'd made the occasion more joyous, if that was even possible.

She glanced over at the dance floor wistfully where they were moving slowly on the spot, their arms around each other, all the signs of anger or fight petered out evidently.

Ginny felt giddy with mirth; it was like all the pieces of her life were falling into places finally.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, oh no. Though the characters all feel too close to me.**

**So**** this is the last chapter and a small one (relatively). And I want to thank _immense__ly_ whoever followed the story and liked it and reviewed it. Like, I really expected it to go unnoticed or not read at all, and that didn't happen, so my faith in the universe was obviously restored again.**

**I**** also wanted to share why I chose to write it in the first place, since their pairing is not that popular, for some unimaginable reason. At least among the people I know.**

**And**** originally, I wanted to write on Lily and James (my FAVORITE, yes). But it was taking longer than I expected, like, _a lot_ longer, what with it having several, several, several chapters, and for once, I wanted to finish what I started writing. xD**

**First off, I felt Ginny and Harry didn't get enough couply time in the books. I was always itching to see how Harry would be like in a relationship, how it would all pan out in the end, but there wasn't much in the last two books to satiate my insatiable thirst for their romance or any romance, for that matter. xD**

**You can probably tell that I _love_ weddings. Not the grown-up, marriage part. But just the ceremony. That one day. The dresses, the food, the people, that whole thing.** **So**** I thought why not put my fancy into _some_ kind of use?**

**It wasn't supposed to be this long, honestly. But I got to writing, and it just all came along, and I went with it. And I also wanted to include in what circumstances I think they came up with their children's names.**

**So**** yeah, that's it for my rambling. Please let me know if you liked it or not and review however you want? (Try not to be _too_ harsh. xD)**

**Well, happy reading!**

* * *

The rest of afternoon was spent in a friendly, flippant banter with relatives and through courses of delicious, mouth-watering victuals. Soon it was time for them to bid farewell to the family. And waving their hands jubilantly – although careful not to appear _too_ jubilant for the sake of Mrs. Weasley – Harry and Ginny traipsed to the front gate of the Burrow and halted.

"We're going on a side-along Apparation." Harry informed a confused Ginny, "I mean, you are."

"What? Why?"

"Just trust me." Harry gave her hand a squeeze, and Ginny, though malleable, resisted rolling her eyes, clenching his forearm tightly and turned on the spot. As she closed her eyes, darkness swooped around her and entombed her, pressing upon her body. Then she had the feeling of something wringing her out, and with a thud, her feet made contact with the gravelly street underneath. Ginny opened her eyes and saw the entrance to the graveyard of Harry's parents.

At Godric's Hollow.

She glanced over at Harry tentatively to ascertain any discernible signs of misery or plaintiveness, as every previous visit of Harry's to their grave had left him. But there was no traces of the familiar solemnity or wretchedness in his countenance which was, on the contrary, just buoyant and joyous.

Something lifted from Ginny's chest as she clasped his hand tighter with both of her hands. "Come on." She tugged at Harry's arm gently and Harry, smiling a little, treaded through the kissing gate at the entrance to the graveyard.

On the other side of the graveyard, a church could be envisaged, emanating sounds of knelling of the church bells. Rows and rows of tombstones flecked the ground, layered with a thin screen of snow, as they navigated their way through them and meandered toward the headstone they desired.

On entering the sheer vicinity of the sought stone, Ginny's eyes started to rove over the area to find the one, and she located it in mere seconds: it seemed to be protruding slightly over the top of the other stones in the arena. Or maybe she felt it did because she had been here quite a few times over the years with Harry, so it had impinged on her mind differently, indelibly.

The engravings on the stone had not suffered any wilt or fading over the years…

**James Potter, born 27 March 1960, died 31 October 1981**

**Lily Potter, born 30 January 1960, died 31 October, 1981**

**_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. _**

Ginny sensed the familiar surge of chill slinking along her skin, a tight tangle of emotions gnawing in her inside. The last line always seemed to do that to her; a sense of foreboding or gloom or frigidity or _something_ always seemed to crawl into her whenever they came here, along with the stinging aching in her heart.

She could almost feel Harry's smarting and abject feeling, vibrating from him, radiating into her, and yet she was recoiled in a crippling helplessness to do anything about it.

So she did what she always did: She conjured up some white flowers with her wand and laid them on top of the stone. Then she stood up and slid her arm around Harry's waist, and leaned on him, saying nothing but trying to commiserate and communicate with him all the same.

When they finally departed the graveyard in comprehensible and comfortable silence, the sun was starting to dip down from the horizon. Its golden rim had smeared a splash of orange over the skyline, tinging it with a pinkish glow in some crooks. Ginny was watching the sky, and thinking about how great everything had turned out today, so she gave a start when she noticed the path they were wending.

"Where are we going…?" Ginny asked, feeling confounded.

She knew where they were going. She had come this way only once to see the remnant debris of the Hollow which had been once, for a year, Harry's home. The cottage had retained most of its build and structure then, but a top right part of it had been blasted through, leaving just scattered splinters of rocks and stones around. She had seen it only once, but the gruelling scene was etched on her mind as if by the Permanent Sticking Charm.

But she couldn't understand where they would be going in this way now.

"Just come with me." Harry breathed, but his voice was drenched with a suppressed satisfaction of accomplishing some great feat, which only left Ginny more bewildered than before.

"But Harry, this is –– " She had to falter as they lumbered to a stop. Her eyes fell on the vista before her and raked over it with an astounded silence.

Instead of the detritus and rubble of the colossally dilapidated cottage, a shiny small house of two-storey stood erected, a red door with a silver doorknob heralding the entrance. It didn't look much different in structure from before; just a moderated version of the same house.

The right top corner of it had been renovated, leaving no trail of the savage wreckage that it had once borne. The rusty, deplorable gate wasn't that anymore; they had turned dusted and brown, uncurled from the grasp of the weeds that she had seen to be foiling it, although the plaque containing all the wishes of the neighbours for Lily and James and Harry were not eroded.

Silently, she let Harry push through the gate and amble up the pebbly driveway toward the red door.

"What – I mean, how – " She tried to formulate a sentence that would justify the emotions she was plunged into, but stopped when the attempt proved to be futile.

Harry flung the front red door open and they entered the house. Ginny looked around her, at the polished furniture and the decorated room they had fallen into – which she had always pictured as a little dingy and musty. A small kitchen flanked the room along with another little room on the other side. A staircase had creaked up to the upper story and over the banister she could just see two more rooms peeking out.

"When did this happen?" Ginny felt dazed, awestruck.

"A few months ago." Harry grinned modestly. "Do you like it?" He added, his tone betraying a pinch of anxiety and nervousness as Ginny found him looking at her expectantly, cracking his knuckles unheedingly, his shoulders rigid.

She swallowed hard and smiled up at him, "I love it."

Harry exuded tangible relief at hearing the words and his shoulders slouched a little. "Well, I just figured I never really lived in this place, even though there are all these signs outside that say I did. We can move someplace bigger in a few years or so. It might just be temporary, if you want." He said reassuringly.

"No…It's really perfect." Ginny asserted. "Let's make it permanent." Harry's face creased into a warm, broad grin and he kissed Ginny on the lips passionately.

"Ron and Hermione knew about this, didn't they?" Ginny said when their mouths parted, remembering the pre-wedding scenario in the living room.

"Yeah. They were that subtle, huh?"

"Ron wasn't." She laughed.

"Shocker." Harry laughed too.

He tucked a tendril of hair behind her ears, caressing her cheeks with his nimble fingers. Then after a moment of quiet, he murmured against her hair. "Thank you."

But Ginny's mind was on someplace else now.

"James and Lily." She said suddenly and the brown in her eyes bored into his deep, limpid green.

"What?" Harry said uncomprehendingly.

"James for a boy and Lily for a girl?" She repeated, a nervous smile creeping on to her.

A myriad of emotions seemed to flicker across Harry's face; they passed on so fast Ginny couldn't summon the time to label them. But in the end, he tossed her a nod and another grin.

"I am rooting for Lily, though." He said through his lopsided grin, tightening his grip around her waist.

"Well, then I have to go for James." Ginny muttered, heady with exhilaration, then stood up on her toes and planted a kiss on her husband's lips.

All the pieces had fallen into place finally, she thought.

She could just feel it.

* * *

**(The End)**

(But you could probably guess that anyway.)


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